The Chimpanzoo
by ChibiDawn23
Summary: MARY POPPINS RETURNS. "In Timbuktu, there's a Chimpanzoo, that's run by a chimpanzee. It's an oddish place where the human race is under lock and key." Or, when Georgie and Jack are chased into a chalk painting and captured by the Wolf, in Georgie's mind, it's no longer a story but a real place he and Jack must escape. Jane/Jack pairing.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters; they belong to PL Travers and the folks at Disney. "The Chimpanzoo" I'm pretty sure was written by the awesome Sherman brothers.**

**Author's**** Note: This is NOT a songfic. "The Chimpanzoo" was supposedly a deleted song from the first "Mary Poppins" movie- and based on the SPOILER drop of the bonus features on the Blu-Ray, there's another song similar to it that was either filmed or considered for "Mary Poppins Returns." I thought it would make an interesting premise. I'll post the first couple of chapters and see what everybody thinks.**

* * *

**Prologue**

_How the mighty have fallen._

William Weatherall Wilkins walked past the bank every day at quarter to eight. Not _into_ it, mind you, for he had been unceremoniously fired from his position there. Just past it. He couldn't afford his driver any longer, so he used his two feet to get around or drove his own car. The soles of his expensive shoes were wearing thin. His suit did little to keep the fall chill out.

Yet he walked past the bank every day, as he had for the past month since he'd been fired, and he watched.

_There he is_.

Michael Banks, briefcase in hand, tipped his hat to the newsboy on the corner and bought a paper. He tucked it under his arm and took the stairs into the bank two at a time. He was whistling.

Wilkins hated that tune. Hated that Michael Banks had gotten a promotion from Mr. Dawes, Jr. Michael Banks, he had heard, had gotten his very own office. One that had been vacated a month ago.

_Not by choice, mind you_. "Corrupt," was the word Mr. Dawes, Jr. had used.

Harsh. Hard. Strict. All words he'd much more prefer than _corrupt_. Such a bad connotation with _corrupt_. No, he had been _good_ at his job. Things had gotten done. And maybe he had taken a few shortcuts to get those things done, but they'd gotten done.

_Except repossessing the Banks' home_, the voice in his head reminded him, and he clenched a fist.

How _had_ they done it? That night haunted his dreams. He could hardly sleep. Somehow, the clock had turned back five minutes. Midnight had come on his watch, a fine Swiss creation. But it hadn't come to the rest of London. And in those five minutes, Wilkins had lost both the Banks home _and_ his job.

_And your reputation, and your income_, the voice added unhelpfully.

Wilkins looked up at the bank. Michael Banks was inside, now. Probably sitting at his old desk.

_My desk_, Wilkins seethed inwardly as he turned away, nearly running the young newsboy over. The boy shouted in protest but Wilkins ignored him.

He just wanted to _know_. _How_ had the Banks' family managed to stop time and beat him? He'd thought about banging on their door (17 Cherry Tree Lane, an address he would remember forever) and demanding an answer, but knowing that they'd just as likely not open the door.

And then there was the balloon. _How_ was it that the balloon had instantly dropped when he chose it from the bunch?

All he could think was that he was going mad. That was the only explanation. Clocks do not just decide that they want to stop on a whim, or turn back time on a whim, and balloons that were floating one moment don't just cease to float if they're full of air.

But the Banks family knew. He knew they did. If anyone had answers, they would. But asking outright wouldn't do. Wilkins ran a hand down his face, no longer clean-shaven but showing signs of five o'clock shadow and age. He shoved his hands in his jacket pocket and stalked off down the street, the wheels turning.


	2. Chapter One

**CHAPTER ONE:**

"Your aunt is going to kill me," Jack muttered, twisting his hat in his hands, eyes raised to the lamppost.

"Aunt Jane doesn't need to-whoa!"

In one move, Jack crammed his hat on his head and grabbed the dangling feet of six year old Georgie Banks, who had one hand on the lamppost and the other on Jack's light. He righted the child, planting his feet back on the ladder so Georgie could finish putting the light on in the lamp across the street from his home at Cherry Tree Lane.

Jack glanced around over his shoulder, eyes flicking up to the second floor window. No Jane. He breathed a sigh of relief. "Probably best you get down now," he suggested hurriedly, holding the ladder steady against the post as the youngest Banks practically leapt off the top rung and into his arms. Jack ducked quickly to avoid the torch, plucking it out of Georgie's hand.

"Thank you!" Georgie said politely, throwing his arms around the leerie. "Can I help you with the rest of the lights?" He pulled Jack's hat off his head and plopped it down on his own. Jack shook his head. The boy was constantly nicking his hat.

Jack cast an eye toward the sky, darkening quicker than usual with the threat of rain. "Not tonight, Georgie," he said, "and don't even think about sticking out that bottom lip!" he added as the boy tried to look sad and pleading.

"But, Jack-"

The pout in his voice nearly did him in, but Jack tried his best to stay firm. "No but Jacks," he countered. "We agreed on one light, an' one light only. Besides, it's nearly supper and your aunt will have my skin if you're late." He snatched his cap off Georgie's head and the boy giggled.

As if to punctuate the statement, the front door of 17 Cherry Tree Lane opened and Jane Banks appeared as if summoned. "Georgie!" she called across the street. "Supper!"

Jack crossed the street with Georgie, making sure to check both ways before skipping across the street in tandem with him. He tipped his hat to Jane. "'Ello," he greeted her.

Jane beamed at him. "Good evening," she greeted him. "I hope Georgie didn't hold you up too much," she said as her nephew ducked around her and into the house. "Wash your hands!" she called after him.

Jack shook his head. "Always got time for him," he replied, and meant it. He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked backwards on his heels. "I-"

"I-"

They both laughed softly. "I should probably get back inside," Jane said. She turned, half in, half out of the door, then stopped. "Did you…that is, do you want-"

"Oh, I shouldn't," Jack cut her off. "Wouldn't want to impose, and anyway, got a bit more to do before it-"

A crack of lightning interrupted and the sky burst open, pouring rain in torrents down on Cherry Tree Lane.

"-rains," Jack finished with a laugh.

"Well, you can't very well finish the lights in this weather!" Jane said.

"Wouldn't be the first time," he shrugged. "I don't mind a spot of rain."

"Nonsense." Jane pushed the door open wider, grabbed his hand and pulled him indoors. "At least wait until it's let up a bit?" Her voice rose on the last word, turning it into a question.

"Jane?" Michael Banks' voice called from the dining room. "Are you coming?"

"Come on, Aunt Jane!" That was Annabel.

"We can't eat without you!" John echoed.

The blonde looked pleadingly up at Jack, with the same expression her nephew often used to try for one more story, one more light, one more moment of playtime.

This time, he couldn't say no. Somehow, it was more effective with her.

"Until it lets up a bit," he agreed, and Jane smiled brightly. Jack hurried to take off his hat, stuffed it into his pocket. He took off his shoes and gloves, leaving them in the entry. He followed Jane through the living room and into the dining room, just in time to hear Georgie say to the rest of the family,

"And then I almost fell off the ladder, but Jack rescued me!"

Jane turned to Jack with a frown and he ducked his head with an embarrassed grin, even as Michael, Annabel and John all started laughing.

Later, Jack would berate himself for not moving along when he should have, as in the end it was the decision that got he and Georgie into the mess they were in.

* * *

Ellen had outdone herself, perhaps motivated by the gloomy day and weather they were having outside. The children were in high spirits with the weekend coming on, and Michael was working with an important client at the bank. Jane seemed to have forgiven Jack for letting Georgie on the ladder by midway through the meal.

Jack was a master storyteller, and at the moment, even Ellen was eavesdropping from the kitchen as Jack finished one and began another. "Have you heard the tale of the Chimpanzoo?"

Georgie waved a hand in the air. "I know what a chimpanzee is!" he cried out. "It's a monkey!"

"He didn't say 'chimpan_zee_,'" John corrected his little brother. "He said _zoo_." The older boy frowned as he glanced sideways at the leerie. "Wait…"

Jack laughed. "Aye, Georgie is correct as well," he assured John. "For it's chimpanzees who run the Chimpanzoo," he explained. "And it's _people_ that are in cages there, instead of the animals, and-"

The clock in the living room chimed seven, and he paused. Then, he frowned and bit his lip. "'m afraid the story may have to wait for another night," Jack said finally. "I should get back to my routes. There's a few dark streets out there that could use some light."

A chorus of 'aww' and 'no!' met his ears from the children as he pushed back from the table. He smiled apologetically.

"But you didn't finish the story!" Georgie protested. The youngest Banks child looked crestfallen.

"It gives him a reason to come visit again," Michael told his son, and Jack fairly beamed as the other man rose from the table and shook Jack's hand. "Thank you for supper," Jack told him. He grinned at the kids. "Always nice to have a good meal and good company to share it with."

"I'll walk you out," Jane said, standing up and putting her napkin on the table. She pretended not to notice the knowing grin that Annabel and John shared as she followed Jack to the front door. "I'm glad you stayed," she told him. She leaned on the banister as Jack pulled on his shoes. "Stay dry," she added, as an afterthought.

The leerie nodded with a hand on the doorknob. "I'll do my best," he said. "Thank you again for the invitation," he told her. "I'll be 'round to finish the story for the children soon." He smiled. "Poor Georgie'll be hangin' by a thread until then."

"We'll keep him distracted," Jane promised. She toed the rug in the entry. "Have a good evening, Jack," she said finally, deciding that was the best and least awkward way to end the evening.

He nodded to her. "Good night, Jane."

* * *

The rain had let up significantly, but sheet lightning backlit the clouds as Jack jogged across the street to where his bike was propped against the lamppost. He shielded his eyes and glanced up the street, mentally counting how many lights he had left to finish. It would be worth it, finishing in the rain, because of the good meal in his stomach that night.

Something moved off to his right, in the park, and he turned to look. But between the rain and the dark and the dark street (at least where he was standing), he couldn't see what it was. _Hopefully whatever or whoever it was has a dry place to bear down and-_

_Hat._ He just realized, he'd forgotten his hat. It must have fallen out of his pocket during dinner. He looked back at 17 Cherry Tree Lane, wondering if he should go back for it, or just leave it until the next time. It would give him another reason to stop back and visit (besides finishing the story for Georgie, he reminded himself).

The front door opened and a small figure burst out in a jacket and hat, solving his dilemma. "Look both ways!" Jack called out to Georgie, shaking his head, as the boy began to cross the street. Georgie stopped on the curb, one foot halfway off, looked both ways, and then darted across. "What brings you out in this weather?" Jack asked him, swinging him into his arms.

The answer was on the boy's head, and Jack flicked up the brim of the hat. Georgie grinned underneath it. "You forgot this!" Georgie informed him. "Father said I could bring it to you."

"Well, it's much appreciated," Jack responded, plucking the hat off Georgie's head and placing it on his own. He set the boy down. "And now you'd best get back inside before you catch your death of-"

"I'm afraid going back is not an option," a voice interrupted. A rather harsh, deep voice. The voice made Jack turn, and instinctively move himself between Georgie and the voice.

The voice was coming from the park, just on the other side of the entrance that was across from the Banks' home.

"_Move_," the voice ordered. "Quickly. Before someone comes out to see what's taking so long."

"I'd rather not," Jack said to the voice, or in the direction he thought it was coming from. "Georgie. Go back to the house." His tone left no room for argument. Georgie had never heard Jack's voice quite like that. All the laughter was gone from his voice. There was something else there. It scared him, almost more than the voice that he couldn't see in the dark and the rain. Jack gave the boy a half push toward the road.

"_Don't!_" the voice barked, and Jack caught a glint of something in a burst of stray lightning. Cylindrical, shiny. Alarmed, he grabbed Georgie's collar and yanked him to a stop. The boy had said nothing in all this time. Jack felt Georgie latch onto his jacket and wrap one arm around his leg.

"You'll come with me _now_." The voice left no room for argument, and Jack, worried for Georgie and maybe slightly for himself, felt they had no choice but to follow. He scooped Georgie up into his arms again and allowed the voice to prod them into the park, disappearing into the darkness just as Michael Banks poked his head out of 17 Cherry Tree Lane and called, "Georgie? Time to come in, now!"


	3. Chapter Two

**CHAPTER TWO**

"Jack? _Georgie!"_

Jane Banks came flying to the door at the distressed sound of her brother's voice. Michael was standing at the bottom of the steps, rain soaking his hair and jumper. "Michael?" she demanded from the porch. "Michael, _what_ is going on?"

Michael took two steps up the sidewalk, turned, and came back, looking every which way as he did. It was then that Jane remembered that Jack's hat had been lying on the floor, Georgie had picked it up, and begged their father to try and catch him before he got too far down the lane. And Michael, thinking it was Cherry Tree Lane and relatively safe, especially at this time of night, plus with the rain, and knowing Jack wouldn't be too far down the street, let Georgie pull on his wellies and his coat and go after his friend.

Except now, Jack's bicycle was still leaning against the pole, and Georgie… "Michael, where's Georgie?" Jane took the steps two at a time to join her brother.

"I-I don't _know_!" Michael stammered, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his face. "He came out with Jack's hat and there's no sign of either of them!" He turned toward the park, cupping his mouth with his hands and yelling, "Jack? _Georgie!"_

"Did Jack go on his route and take Georgie with him?" Jane asked, trying to remain calm. Her brother was hysterical. Her question was answered, once again, by the abandoned bicycle and the pitch black street going further down the lane. "Whatever could have happened to them? They were _just_ here!"

John and Annabel appeared at the doorway, Ellen in tow. "Father?" Annabel asked from the porch. "Father, what's wrong?"

"Ellen, take them _back_ inside!" Michael snapped, and Annabel and John flinched in surprise at the tone of their father's voice. This was worse than the time at the bank. Their father sounded angry, and upset, and s_cared_ and before Annabel could protest or John could ask what was happening, Ellen had pulled them back inside and closed the door, leaving Michael and Jane, outside in the rain, searching up and down the street.

It would be nearly a half hour before Michael, soaked through and cold, would be convinced by his sister to go back inside and call the police.

* * *

Had Michael had the presence of mind to search the park, he might have caught up to Jack, Georgie, and the voice, but he wasn't thinking of the park. And, if he had stayed out just a bit longer, he would have heard the commotion that followed and no doubt would have been led directly to his missing son and Jack.

The voice had told Georgie, as soon as they heard Michael calling him inside, in no uncertain terms _not_ to make any noise because he would hurt Jack and his father, and so the boy stayed silent, fingers curled into Jack's jacket and face buried in his collar. Jack held onto him so tightly he was afraid he might squeeze him in half. The voice prodded him forward with a poke of the gun into his back. The wind whipped around them. Jack remembered a windy day in the park when he'd helped Georgie reel in his kite with a certain magical nanny on the end of it, and wished desperately that the scenario would repeat itself.

"Where are we going?" Jack asked the voice, keeping it light. "This young man's not dressed for the weather much." He tugged his hat off and jammed it on Georgie's, in an attempt to keep the rain off the boy's face.

The voice didn't answer, just prodded Jack forward, further into the park. The leerie weighed his options. He wouldn't allow Georgie to get hurt, not on his watch. That meant keeping himself between the voice and the gun and Georgie at all times. But the further they got from the Banks' home, Jack felt, the more _un_safe they would be. There had to be a way to get Georgie home and away from the voice.

A crack of lightning split the sky and thunder shook the trees. Jack felt the gun stray from his ribs, and took the opportunity. He dropped Georgie, turned, and swung a fist. It connected, he noted with satisfaction, and he yelled at Georgie to "_Run!"_ as he tussled blindly with the voice. The voice tackled him around the waist and Jack hit the ground hard. He tilted his head backwards and saw Georgie running, and then strong hands grabbed him by the lapel and Jack scrambled to regain the upper hand. Another burst of lightning lit up the voice and Jack's eyes widened in disbelief at his first good look. "_You!_"

* * *

Georgie obeyed Jack immediately, his boots skidding in the wet grass. Had he not been terrified, he would have run toward home, but between being so terribly scared and the wind and the rain and the dark, he was turned around instead and running further into the park. He saw lights up ahead, and knew enough to know that it was the gazebo that was in the center of the park. He got to the gazebo, ducked under the roof. The rain was lighter, but still stung his face from the wind blowing it in. He looked out, shielding his eyes against the rain, even with Jack's hat still on his head, there was quite a lot of it again, like the storm had come around for a second turn. "Jack?" he called, looking out into the rain.

No Jack. No voice.

Just him, and a rapidly-fading chalk drawing on the sidewalk, colors melting into the cement and running into the grass. It was hard to tell what the picture was, but the whole thing was outlined in a bright yellow frame, barely visible in the lantern light from the gazebo.

"Jack!" he yelled into the dark, wrapping his arms around one of the support posts. "Jack, where _are_ you?"

Suddenly, there he was, running across the grass, long legs leaping over the KEEP OFF THE GRASS sign, barreling toward Georgie. "Jack!" Georgie yelled into the rain. The leerie was almost to him. Jack reached for Georgie, grabbed his hand.

"Come on, we've got to-"

There was a loud crack, a flash of light. Georgie felt himself being pulled forward…and then he was falling.

And falling.

The boy reached both hands up, grasping for anything to stop his fall. His hands caught the edge of…well, he couldn't be sure, but it was golden and kind of bumpy, maybe like the edge of a picture frame or a mirror. His fingers dug into the grooves and he held on for dear life, his feet dangling in midair. He wanted to look for Jack but was afraid to look down.

So he looked up, instead, into the menacing, icy blue eyes of-

"The wolf!" he gasped. "The wolf from the bowl!" For above him was the _same_ gray wolf that had taken Gilly the giraffe from the Royal Doulton Music Hall and all of their things, and whom Annabel and John had had to fend off to save Georgie before, when Mary Poppins was here-and oh how he wished she was here _right now_-

The wolf howled and grabbed Georgie's hands with his big paws, and Georgie felt his hands slipping off the side of the frame-_the chalk drawing! _"Annabel!" he cried out, trying to regain his hold. "John! _Father!"_

And then he was falling again, into blackness.


	4. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer: It's about that time where I regret to inform you that the characters aren't mine.**

**Author's**** Note: PS, laranjones...you called it ;)**

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE:**

Something was poking his cheeks, something pointy and scratchy and tickly and soft all at the same time. He grasped it with his fingers. It was still dark, but there was no rain. He couldn't see what it was.

He was moving.

_I wonder…_ He remembered Jack running toward him, and then he remembered the bright flash of light. _And then I was falling, and I saw-_

Georgie's eyes opened and he looked around. _The wolf! I saw the wolf!_ He was sitting in _straw_, and above him and around him, he saw wood. Like he was in a wagon. He looked up, and saw trees. Straggly, black trees. Just like… _Just like before! When we went into the bowl, with Mary Poppins!_ When the wolf, and the weasel and the badger had taken Gilly, and then tried to take _him_, but Annabel and John had saved him. Then he remembered the chalk drawing. The one that had been almost washed away on the sidewalk by the gazebo. _We fell. We fell into the chalk drawing! And the wolf put us in a wagon and-_ _oh. Where is Jack?_

He felt through the straw until he found a pair of legs. The legs belonged to Jack. Jack was leaning up against the side of the wagon, his head resting on his shoulder. His eyes were closed, like he was sleeping. Georgie didn't want the wolf to know that he was awake, so he stayed quiet as he tried to gently shake Jack awake.

His friend didn't move- _he must really be sleepy from all that running_-and so Georgie lifted up one of Jack's arms and slipped under it, leaning into his side and putting Jacks' arm around his shoulders.

_The wolf has taken us_, he thought. _And Jack is sleeping, but I'm not. So I need to take care of Jack until he wakes up, and then maybe he can help me think of a way to escape from the wolf._ With that thought, he sidled up to Jack and watched as they bumped down the road.

* * *

"I _beg_ your pardon?" Michael rested a hand on his sister's arm to keep Jane in her chair, so she couldn't go after the constable for what he'd had the gall to suggest. Even he couldn't quite believe it, which was why he had spoken up.

Jane jerked her arm out of Michael's fingers and stood up toe to toe with the policeman and assured him, quite strongly, that, "Jack is a _friend_ and we trust him very much and the very _idea_, how _dare_ you-"

The children chimed in as well:

"Jack's our _best_ friend!"

"Jack loves us!"

Jane raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at the constable like she wanted him to swallow the question back. The older man, the name of Daugherty, didn't back down, however.

"I'm only sayin' that it's quite the coincidence that this…_leerie_-" he said the word like it was a curse word- "comes over for dinner and then your son disappears along with him right after."

"We _told_ you," Michael interjected. "Georgie was returning Jack's hat." He stood up, if only to be able to reach his sister should she try to do something foolish. "Constable, we trust Jack with our lives. He would _never_ hurt my son." It was true. They hadn't known Jack very long, didn't even know his last name. But Mary Poppins had trusted him, and he'd help them save the house...Michael was confident enough in their new friend to step forward, to look Daugherty in the eye, and inform him, "Jack did _not_ take my son!"

"All right, all right, if you say that's the way it is," the constable said placatingly.

"It _is_." Jane's tone dared him to disagree.

Daugherty tried a different tack. "If you're so sure it wasn't this leerie, then do you have other suggestions?" In his mind, he hadn't let go of the idea that it was an open-and-shut case, that the leerie had taken the boy, only who knows to what end. "What about your son? Is he prone to run off on his own?"

Michael shook his head. "No."

But the constable saw Annabel and John exchange a look. "Is that true then,?" he asked them.

Michael turned to his two oldest children with a questioning look. "Annabel? John?" he pressed.

"Well…" Annabel began, with a look at her brother. "There was that time. In the bowl."

"I _beg_ your pardon?" the constable asked. "The bowl?"

"What are you going on about?" Jane asked her niece and nephew. The three adults stared at the children.

"In Mother's Royal Doulton bowl," Annabel told her father. "With Mary Poppins. We went into the bowl, because we broke it, and we went to a music hall, and Jack and Mary Poppins were singing and dancing. And the wolf, he stole Gilly, so Georgie went after him to get it."

"What's all this, now?" Daugherty snorted.

But Michael and Jane knew. They remembered that impossible things happened with Mary Poppins, and the children weren't usually prone to lying and telling stories (and the last time they'd told him a fantastic tale it had turned out to be true). So if Annabel and John were both saying this had happened, then it must have, only how do you explain that to a policeman?

"Sir, just _please_, will you go out and look for my son?" Michael changed the subject. "Jack's bicycle is still outside and he wouldn't go anywhere without it, and Georgie doesn't run off without telling us." He ran a hand down his face. "My son is out there, in this weather," he pleaded. His voice cracked as he sank into a chair. The children rushed over to pat him on the back and hug him, and Jane took the opportunity to glare at the constable.

"I'll get together a team, but it'll be hard to look in this weather," he said finally. "We may have to wait until first light."

Jane opened her mouth to suggest that he start _right_ this moment, but she felt her brother rest a hand on her arm, and stopped.

Her heart ached with worry. There was another crack of lightning, but the thunder took longer this time. The storm was moving away. She only hoped it wasn't taking Jack and Georgie with it.

* * *

Georgie felt something nudging him, and that made him open his eyes for a second time. _I fell asleep. Jack and I both fell asleep and now I don't know where we are._ He blinked tiredly and looked up to see Jack's friendly brown eyes above him.

"There you are," Jack said softly.

Georgie stared up at his friend. Jack's face looked drawn and tight, and his normally cheerful voice was still cheerful, only a little tired-sounding. Georgie supposed it was from all the sleeping and the running. "Jack! You're awake!" Georgie threw his arms around Jack and hugged him tightly, then frowned when Jack didn't hug him back.

It was then that he noticed that one of Jack's arms was tucked in tight against his chest, and his other arm was holding it close, and in the dim light, he could see something red on Jack's coat. "Jack? Are you hurt?"

Jack managed a smile. "A bit, but don't worry. It's nothin' I can't handle." He looked at Georgie. "And what about you?"

Georgie shrugged. "I'm all right. Did you see the wolf?"

"The what?" Jack sounded confused.

"The wolf!" Georgie exclaimed. "The wolf, that was chasing us through the park. I ran to the benches because you told me to run away. And then I couldn't find you, but then the wolf was coming after you and you were running across the grass! We fell into the chalk drawing and I woke up in a wagon and you were sleeping, and it was _just_ like the wagon that the wolf tried to take all our things away in when we went to the music hall with Mary Poppins!"

Georgie got to his feet and Jack reached his good arm for him, missing the back of his coat. "Georgie, don't go far!" Jack warned him. _Well now that was a silly thing to say_, he thought. _Isn't as if he can really _go_ anywhere! _The boy paused, looking around at their surroundings. Gray walls, with a small window, and a door with bars. He was standing in more straw. There was light from a single lantern hung on a hook outside the door. "Jack?" Georgie asked slowly, his eyes on the door. "This looks like a cage."

Jack nodded slowly. "Aye, that it does."

Georgie turned back to him. "Are we in the Chimpanzoo?"

Jack smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I believe we are, Georgie." His voice was soft. "Perhaps we are."

* * *

Jack pushed against the floor with his shoes, raising himself to more of a sitting position, wincing at the pain that radiated up his arm. He remembered, very clearly, the crack of thunder that was really the gun going off, and the pain tearing into his shoulder. He remembered reaching for Georgie on the steps of the gazebo, but after that, it was fuzzy. His young friend's story was filling in the gaps, albeit not as wholly as Jack would've liked. _A wagon, and a wolf…_

"Georgie?" The boy turned to face the leerie, his face a mix of wonder and puzzlement. "Tell me more about the wolf?" Jack queried.

"He's big," Georgie said, coming back to sit with him. The boy sat cross-legged with his back against the brick wall, resting against Jack's good arm. "He's big and gray, with blue eyes like the sky. He wears a suit and a tie, like my Father does when he goes to work.

"Jack? Would you finish the story?" Georgie changed tacks midstream. "About the Chimpanzoo?" He craned his neck, wide –eyed, to look into Jack's eyes. Begging Jack to finish it.

_The wolf_. Wilkins. At least, he thought that was his name. The banker, the one who'd tried to take 17 Cherry Tree Lane from Jane and Michael. Jack remembered now, seeing his face in the park as they'd wrestled in the grass.

Jack ruffled Georgie's hair with his good hand, trying to hide the grimace of pain. "Seems as though we might be here awhile," he said after a moment. "So we should have plenty of time to finish the story." Georgie fiddled with his coat buttons as Jack began, trying to keep his voice light.

"_In Timbuktu, there's a Chimpanzoo_

_That's run by a chimpanzee."_

"Except this one is run by the wolf," Georgie whispered.

Jack nodded. "I believe you're right, in this case," he confirmed.

"_It's an oddish place, where the human race_

_Is under lock and key._

_And on their backs, they wear small plaques-_What are you doing?"

Georgie had leaned forward, nearly touching his toes. He looked a bit like a turtle, in Jack's mind. "Do I have one?"

Jack chuckled. "A plaque? Not that I can see. Perhaps they're trying to decide what to put on yours."

Georgie sat back up. "What would go on mine?"

"Well, now, that's a good question, isn't it?" Using his free hand, Jack traced a rectangle on Georgie's back. The boy giggled at the sensation, and it made Jack smile genuinely, despite it all.

"…_On their backs, they wear small plaques_

_For the animals to view._

_Which specify the reasons why_

_They're kept in the Chimpanzoo._

_If you're boisterous and bumptious-"_

"Those are silly words!"

Jack was in the middle of tracing the letters onto Georgie's back, (_probably not spelled right_, he thought, _but then Georgie probably doesn't know how they're spelled either, so I'm alright)_ but he stopped at Georgie's exclamation. "Silly words for a silly boy," he teased him.

"Do they mean something?" Georgie asked. "Like, Aunt Jane and Father will sometimes say this really long word, supercali…..supper…." The boy frowned, twisting to look at Jack. "It's _really_ long. And Father says it's a word you say when you don't know _what_ you should say," he explained. "Sometimes he uses it when our rooms are a mess, or we come in dirty from playing."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like quite the word. I'll have to ask your Aunt Jane about it sometime."

Georgie was quiet for a moment, and Jack was about to pick up the song again, when Georgie asked, "Jack? Are you going to marry my Aunt Jane?"

Jack felt his ears getting hot. "I….hold on a moment…." He swallowed. "Uh, what brings that question on?" He shifted as Georgie turned, bouncing onto his heels in a crouch.

"Annabel says you're going to marry Aunt Jane. She said Aunt Jane f…fan…" His face scrunched up as he tried to think of the right word and Jack laughed. "_Fancies_ you," Georgie spit it out triumphantly.

Jack paused, considering. Yes, Jane Banks had always been very nice to him and polite and friendly. She would stop him on the street if she saw him to say hello and ask how his day was going, or in invite him to Michael's for a meal…It wasn't exactly a _shock_ that Jane Banks might like him a bit, he'd thought about it a lot, but to hear someone other than himself or his fellow leeries teasing him, someone close to the source…

He was saved from having to give Georgie an answer when the boy plopped down beside him again, turned sideways, and flung an arm over Jack's stomach. Jack winced at the quick movement. His arm was on fire; he'd pushed it out of his mind during the story and during the conversation. Now it was back, raging. _Oh. Right. I've been shot. That really _did_ happen._

"Will you keep going with the story, Jack?" Georgie asked him.

Jack smiled down at him. As much as he hated to admit it, he was glad the youngest Banks child was with him. Georgie was seeing their predicament through different eyes (and Jack would have _loved_ to see what he was seeing-especially if it was _really_ like the Royal Doulton bowl), _and if it kept Georgie calm to pretend that this was all part of the story_, Jack admitted, _it was keeping him calm to have someone to talk to. And maybe when Georgie fell asleep,_ Jack thought, _he'd have time to come up with some kind of plan to get them out of this mess, seein' as how it was his fault-_

"Sorry?" Jack shook his head, realizing Georgie was talking to him. The boy was looking at him expectantly. "Sorry, friend. Now, where were we?"


	5. Chapter Four

**CHAPTER FOUR:**

The wolf was still there, lying in wait.

Everything in the park had happened so fast. Wilkins hadn't expected the leerie-the boy had called him Jack- to come out of the Banks' home, nor had he expected Michael's youngest boy to come out in the rain. He'd only been there watching the house. But it was dark and it was raining, and he'd brought the gun with him, if only to get used to the feel of it.

And he didn't really _want_ the leerie or the boy, he mostly wanted Michael for questioning, but they were both there anyway, and so he seized the moment.

He hadn't expected to have to chase them through the park. One moment, he'd had them under control and the next, Jack had taken a swing at him. His cheek was still smarting-the leerie probably had learned to fight on the streets, no doubt. The boy had run and Wilkins knew that if he somehow got back to Michael Banks that they'd know it was him, and so he'd gone after them.

He hadn't meant to shoot the leerie. He'd meant to tell them to stop, but his finger was near the trigger and everything was wet from the rain, and it must have slipped.

But then luck had started to turn back his way. Because the leerie dropped, his head hitting the steps of the gazebo, and the boy fell with him, had seen Wilkins' face and cried out something about a wolf, but then whether he'd hit his head on the way down or just fainted from the running or terror, Wilkins didn't know. But it had taken a lot of effort to drag them both to his car and put them in the backseat, (the leerie had gotten blood on the upholstery) and drive them out to an old estate that belonged to his family (one that hadn't been on his list of assets when everything was taken from him because he didn't have a job anymore _and oh how that burned him to say it_).

But then, he didn't know what to do with them. He was back in control of everything. He still wanted answers to his questions, and listening to the leerie and the boy, it sounded like he'd picked the right people to talk to about the things he wanted to know.

The leerie was half-singing, half-speaking the nonsense story again.

"_If you're overly rambunctious,_

_You're whisked to Timbuktu._

_Laughs, laughs, nothing but laughs,_

_But you know who's laughing at who?_

_It's the animals there who giggle and stare _

_At you in the Chimpanzoo!"_

The two of them dissolved into a fit of laughter, and Wilkins felt like they were laughing at him.

* * *

While Wilkins worked up the nerve to ask Jack and Georgie about magic and the impossible, and Jack's arm got worse, Michael and Jane Banks were getting more worried.

Annabel and John had been shuffled off to sleep, and Ellen promised she would stay upstairs with them to give the adults some time to themselves. Michael had hugged each of his children a little tighter, and was grateful Ellen had volunteered to stay upstairs with them.

The last thing he wanted was to lose them, too.

Now, he and Jane sat in the living room, in front of the fire. It was crackling, and warm, but Michael didn't feel it. His head was resting in his hand and he was staring absently into the flames.

Wherever they were, he hoped Jack was with his son. The thought of Georgie out there alone terrified him. At least the rain had let up. He hoped his son was somewhere dry and out of the weather and-

Michael couldn't help it, letting out a choked sob. His sister was by his side in an instant. "It's going to be all right," Jane whispered reassuringly. Her brother didn't look convinced, and she couldn't blame him.

"First Kate…and then nearly losing the house, and now-" Michael somehow sounded sad and angry and defeated and exhausted all in one thought, and Jane leaned over to give him a hug.

"It's going to be all right," Jane repeated. "Georgie's with Jack, wherever they are. Jack won't let anything happen to him."

"I know." Michael's voice was quiet. "But what if something happens to _Jack_?"

Jane paused. What if something _had_ happened to Jack? Smiling Jack, who always greeted her with a smile and a song and a 'Good morning!' as he passed her building each morning on his route. Jack, with his polite tip of the hat and his stories for the children…who somehow convinced half the leeries in London to scale Big Ben to turn a clock back five minutes.

Jack, with a balloon and his bicycle. _Don't you lose her, sir!_ Admiral Boom had ordered him.

Jack, with his smile and a promise. _I won't, sir!_

Tears pricked her eyes, but Jane forced herself to stay strong. Someone had to. "Jack can take care of himself," she said strongly, so much so that Michael looked up at her. "And Jack will take good care of Georgie until we can go search for them."

"I want to go now," Michael whispered.

She nodded. "I know. Me too."

* * *

Georgie peered up at the bars. The wolf was staring at him. _This must be what the zoo animals feel like_, he thought to himself. _And Jack and I are the zoo animals right now, in the Chimpanzoo_. He looked at Jack. His friend was sleeping again, his chest rising and falling slowly. Every now and again, Jack would make a face in his sleep. It wasn't funny faces like Annabel and John, or even Father when he fell asleep in the armchair.

It was the same kind of face his mother used to make when she didn't feel good and was trying to hide it.

"Can you help us?" Georgie found himself asking the wolf. "Jack is hurt."

The wolf just stared at him.

_Perhaps it's like the _real_ zoo, _Georgie thought. _The animals talk but you can't tell what they're saying. So maybe he can't understand me._ He decided to try something different, cupping his hands together and pretending like they were a bowl, lifting it to his lips. He kept his eyes on the wolf the whole time.

The wolf moved past, and even though Jack had told him not go far, Georgie crawled over to the cage door and looked out, trying to see where he was going.

"Georgie?" Jack's voice whispered from behind him, and Georgie turned, running back over to him, slowing down so he didn't fall on top of him. He sat down carefully beside Jack. "What were you doing over there?" Jack asked him. Relief was in his voice. When he'd awoke, he hadn't seen the boy and had instantly panicked, fear tightening his chest, until he'd glanced over and seen him kneeling by the door.

"The wolf was watching us," Georgie informed him. "He was sitting out there. I asked him if he could help us, because you're hurt, and I'm thirsty."

Jack took a slow breath, let it out. "So then…what did the wolf say?"

Georgie shook his head. "He walked away." He snuggled into Jack's side again, and Jack ignored the shooting pain to put his arm around him, resting his hand on top of Georgie's head.

"I want my Father," Georgie whispered into Jack's coat.

Jack didn't say it out loud, but he wouldn't have minded in the slightest either if Michael Banks were to appear in the doorway at that moment. "Georgie, next time the wolf comes…would you let me know, even if I'm sleeping?" Georgie nodded, crying into his jacket. "Hey." Jack brushed Georgie's hair with one hand. "It's going to be all right. We'll get out of this."

"I wish Mary Poppins was here," Georgie sniffed.

Jack gave him a one-armed hug. "Me too, Georgie."


	6. Chapter Five

**CHAPTER FIVE**

When the wolf came back, Jack was the only one awake. Georgie was sound asleep, his head resting on Jack's chest. He hoped the boy slept through the rest of this. Jack had his good left arm curled protectively over him. He couldn't feel his other arm, but when he looked down, it was there, same as always. The red stain on his jacket was spreading. Briefly, he wondered how it would be to steer his bicycle and light the lamps with only one arm for the rest of his life.

_Or hold Jane Banks with only one arm._ He caught himself. _Where did _that_ come from, Jack?_ he asked himself.

The scraping of hinges on the floor caught his attention, and he turned his head to see the shadowy figure standing in the doorway. The _open_ doorway.

"Don't try making a break for it," Wilkins warned him.

Jack coughed out a short laugh. "I'm currently bein' used for a bed, and I've been shot in the arm," he informed him in a dry whisper. "'t won't be a problem." Wilkins started walking toward the leerie. "Only keep it down," Jack added, his eyes flickering down to Georgie.

Surprisingly, Wilkins walked a bit slower, until he was standing above the two of them. Jack could see him plainly now, still in his dapper jacket and tie, traces of stubble on his jaw, and he was holding something. Two cups. Jack nodded to the cups. "Come to finish the job?" he asked quietly. "'s in the cups? Poison?"

"What? N-no, definitely not. Water," Wilkins stammered, setting the cups down and backing away quickly, as if Jack was going to rise up suddenly and attack.

Jack eyed the two cups warily.

"Surely you could use the water. The boy, he told me-" Wilkins paused. Jack thought he looked offended that he wasn't picking up the cup.

Jack's eyes flickered to Georgie, then to his shoulder. "As you can clearly see," he said, "I've only got but one arm at the moment, and it's bein' used for something more important. Should I thank you for the water? Or want to throw the cups at you for takin' a child from his father?" His voice held a bit of an edge, and Georgie shifted. Jack relaxed, realizing he'd tensed up. Georgie's breathing slowed again, and Jack glared at Wilkins. "I'm not oft' a fightin' man, Mr. Wilkins, but I'd like to show you what it's like with an even playing field."

"I just want to talk," Wilkins told him. "I have some questions that need answering."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Certainly an interestin' way of bringing up polite conversation," he pointed out. "I'm not tellin' you anything you want to know 'til this young gent is back with his family."

Wilkins bent down, got in Jack's face. Jack could smell scotch on his breath. _Liquid courage I'd wager,_ he thought.

"His _family_," Wilkins hissed. "His _family_ is the reason I've lost my world. My work, my reputation. I _know_ something strange happened that night." He pulled his sleeve back, revealing an expensive-looking watch.

"_That's_ what this is all about?" Jack said, realization dawning. "That night, at the bank? The night you tried to take the Banks' home?" He leaned his head back with a soft chuckle. "Must be difficult," he said.

"What?" Wilkins hissed at him, infuriated that the leerie was _laughing_ at him.

Jack tilted his head so he was looking at Wilkins. "Not believin' in the impossible." He closed his eyes, effectively ending the conversation.

* * *

Michael Banks woke with a start, his heart racing. It took him a moment to realize that he'd fallen asleep in the living room, in the chair. Jane had dimmed the lights, left the fire crackling. He ran a hand over his face, yawning as he did. Quietly, he got to his feet and stole a glance out the window. The rain had stopped. The storm was over.

_But it's not_, he reminded himself. _Far from it._

Georgie was still out there somewhere. Jack was still out there somewhere.

_And so, what am I doing here?_ Michael stepped away from the window, adrenaline waking his body up. He climbed the stairs, up to the room his three children shared. _Someday,_ he mused, _Annabel is going to need her own room. John and Georgie can-_ He clenched a fist and forced himself to take a breath against the overwhelming sadness that clutched at his chest. He looked in on his children.

Annabel was asleep on her side, her chest lightly rising and falling. A piece of her brown hair had fallen over one eye, and Michael tenderly tucked it back behind her ear. His daughter, his oldest, shifted in her sleep, but didn't wake. He watched a moment to be sure, then moved on to John.

John lay on his stomach, face half-buried in the pillow. Michael bit his lip. John was a terrific snorer. Kate had always been able to hear him through their bedroom wall. He remembered many a time when his wife had gotten up in the middle of the night because she couldn't hear their oldest son, and needed to check up on him.

Unwillingly, Michael's eyes drifted to the empty bed that was normally occupied by his youngest. Georgie's bed was made to the best of a six-year-old's ability. Nowhere near hospital corners, but Michael applauded the effort. Gilly, his son's stuffed giraffe, stood on all fours on top of his pillow. Michael picked up the stuffed animal and ran his fingers over it. The giraffe had come home from the hospital with him. Michael had seen it in a shop across the street and bought it on a whim for their new arrival.

Kate had picked out the giraffe's name. _Well, we already have a Georgie, and he's a tall one. So we must name the giraffe…Gilly. Gilly Giraffe._

Their youngest had been a surprise. But a welcome one. Michael loved Georgie's innocence and imagination. That day in the park, the day of the Spring Festival, Michael recalled it had been Georgie's idea to speak to the woman selling balloons. And from there…

Michael stood up, Gilly still in his fingers. He tiptoed quietly back to the door, and down the stairs. He stopped short at the bottom.

He'd just realized who he hadn't seen.

_Jane. Where did you go?_

He slipped into his shoes and grabbed his coat, threw open the front door. His sister was just pedaling away down the street on Jack's bicycle. Michael closed the door and ran after her, calling her name.

"Jane!" His feet splashed in the puddles left from the rain.

She slowed, and looked back, dragging her toe to stop the bicycle on the cobbled street. "Michael! What are you-"

He smiled, with a determined set to his jaw. "You didn't think you'd run off on an adventure without me, did you?"

His sister opened her mouth to deny it, but then smiled back at him. Suddenly, it was like they were John and Annabel's ages all over again, about to jump into a chalk drawing in the park with a certain magical nanny and a chimneysweep.

"You're riding on the ladder," she informed him.

"If it meant we'd find Georgie and Jack faster," Michael said, "I'd ride on your shoulders."

"That would throw us horribly off balance," Jane countered as Michael hopped on, balancing himself in the center of the ladder Jane had tied to the back of Jack's bicycle. His sister looked over her shoulder and he tossed her an 'ok' sign. Jane turned forward again, her mouth in a thin line. She gripped the handlebars tightly.

"Off we go."

* * *

The wolf stewed.

_That arrogant, dirty-_ His mind supplied a few other helpful adjectives for Jack the leerie, none of them words his mother would have approved of. _How _dare_ he make demands! How _dare_ he ignore me!_

_I'm not tellin' you anything you want to know 'til this young gent is back with his family._

Wilkins looked at the tumbler of scotch he had in his hand, and threw it against the wall. It shattered against the stones.

The next time he went back down there, he promised himself, he wasn't leaving without answers. Perhaps Jack the leerie needed a reminder of who was in charge.

He walked past a mirror in the hall, and thought he caught a glimpse of blue eyes and gray fur. He turned quickly, looking at his reflection, saw nothing but himself looking back.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Jack's being such a boss and Wilkins is losing it...bwahahaha. Thou shalt not screw with Jack, because Jack shall not have it.


	7. Chapter Six

**Disclaimer: I think I've forgotten this a bit. These characters are not mine. "The Chimpanzoo" was written by the Sherman brothers.**

* * *

**CHAPTER SIX:**

There was something bright in Jack's eyes, and he opened one cautiously. Sunlight. _Morning_, he thought. He glanced down at Georgie, sound asleep, head resting on Jack's chest. _Morning's good,_ Jack thought. Trying not to wake his young friend, he pushed himself into more of a sitting position on the wall, using his good hand to move Georgie into a comfortable position. In the light of the sun, he got a better look at his shoulder.

The shoulder he couldn't feel anymore. _But maybe that's a blessing,_ he acknowledged. At least it didn't send stabbing pain through him everytime he moved. He closed his eyes, turning his head toward the sun, enjoying the warmth.

And started to formulate a plan.

* * *

Angus stared at the police officer with an amused look. "You're barkin'," he told Officer Daughtery. Behind him, two others leeries murmured their agreement. "_Jack_? Kidnappin' a little boy?" He laughed, shaking his head.

"_Our_ Jack?" one of the other leeries asked, and the officer nodded in confirmation. The leerie snorted, thumbing his nose. "Never. Jack don't even kill spiders when 'e sees 'em," he said. "Wouldn't 'arm a fly."

"You're lookin' for the wrong man," Angus promised Daugherty. He tilted the brim of his hat. "Now, if you'll excuse us, some of us have jobs to do." He brushed past the officer, torch in hand. The other two followed him out, giving Daugherty a glare.

Daugherty pounded a fist into his palm in frustration. He was tired, and frustrated. What should have been an open-and-shut case was looking like it was going to take more of his time.

Time to go back to 17 Cherry Tree Lane and take a look around.

* * *

Michael and Jane Banks had pedaled and pored over the eight blocks around their childhood home. There had been no sign of Georgie _or_ Jack. Michael had taken over driving the bicycle, Jane holding onto his waist, and now, the two of them arrived back at Cherry Tree Lane, exhausted. Jane slid off the back as Michael carried the bike up to the porch and leaned it against the pillar. He didn't want to leave it on the street.

The one streetlight was still lit across the street.

"Why don't you go on inside," Michael suggested to Jane, who looked up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "I'm going to do a walk through the park," he told her. "The rain will have probably washed anything away, but…" His eyes drifted back to the single lit streetlamp. He sighed. "I don't know, I still want to have a look."

"No," Jane protested. "I want to come with you."

Michael gently grasped his sister's shoulders and helped her sit on the stairs. "Jane, dear, you can't hardly keep your eyes open." He pulled her into a hug. "You don't always have to be the strong one," he informed her.

Sometime during the night, Michael Banks had gone from scared and upset to scared and resolute. As he and Jane had pedaled around on Jack's bike, he'd decided that moping around the house wouldn't do him any good. _Because when you're at your lowest, there's nowhere to go but up_.

Georgie and Jack were out there. He was going to find them. No more sitting around the house feeling sorry for himself. He was going to find his son.

He kissed the top of Jane's forehead. "Go. Rest. Look after John and Annabel. I'll be back soon." He stood, offering her a hand to get up, and pulled Jane to her feet. "Go," he assured her. "Thank you."

"You'll find them?" Jane asked in a whisper. "Georgie and….my Jack?"

Michael couldn't help the gasp that question elicited. "_Your_ J-" he began.

Then, he smiled. "Jack, too," he told her.

* * *

Georgie Banks opened one eye, then the other. He blinked blearily, then up to Jack, who felt him stir and offered him a smile.

"Mornin' sleepyhead," Jack greeted him.

"I had a dream," Georgie said, yawning. "There was a storm, and you were sleeping. The wolf was there, and he locked us up in the Chimpanzoo…" He trailed off, his voice fading as he looked around their prison. "It's _real_," he breathed. He looked up at Jack. "Is it magic, then? Like with Mary Poppins?"

Jack gave him a sad smile. "Not magic, I'm afraid."

Georgie considered that. "Jack…are we going to get to go home?"

"Yes," Jack promised him strongly. He tilted Georgie's head so that the boy was looking at him. "Georgie, when the wolf comes back and opens the door, you're going to escape."

"What about you?" Georgie had caught on to what he wasn't saying immediately. _Smart lad._

Jack nodded down to his shoulder. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to stay."

"I won't leave you here alone," Georgie cried. "Not with the wolf!" He grabbed Jack's hand with both hands. "You have to come too."

Jack shook his head. "Listen to me, Georgie Banks. Your father is out there looking for you, and he won't know where to look unless we tell him. So you have to escape, and find a telephone. Do you know how to call your house?"

Georgie nodded. "Father made us learn the number," he said.

Jack ruffled his hair. "Smart boy. You're going to call your father, and tell him about the wolf. And then you're going to _run_." He looked at the boy. "You have to be brave. Can you do that?"

Georgie stared at him. Jack hated that he was putting the boy in this position. But he was useless as anything other than a distraction with his worthless left arm.

"Can you do that?" Jack repeated the question urgently.

Georgie looked at him. "I can do it," he said finally. "I will get us out of the Chimpanzoo."

Jack gave him the best hug he could with one arm. "That you will, Georgie," he assured him. Tears were pricking at the corners of his eyes, but he forced himself to smile at the boy. "How 'bout we keep going with our story?"

Georgie nodded into his jacket, and Jack picked up the tale from where he'd left off last night.

"_Now this Chimpanzee's relations_

_Keep the cages looking posh. _

_Tend the wickets, take the tickets,_

_And purvey the lemon squash._

_Laughs, laughs, nothing but laughs._

_But you know who's laughing at who?_

_It's the animals there who giggle and stare,_

_At you in the Chimpanzoo!"_

Georgie gave Jack a smile. Jack returned it.

"Such nonsense," a voice interrupted the story, and the two of them looked in the door to see the wolf—Wilkins—looking in at them.

"It's _not_ nonsense," Georgie told him. "It's _real_." He sat up. Jack kept a hand on the small of his back.

The wolf shook his head with a snort of disbelief. "Magic and clocks stopping and zoos run by animals- they're _stories_, just stories!"

"How do you explain it then?" Jack questioned him. He nodded to Wilkins' left wrist. "Your watch. How is it that midnight came to all of London town, but not to _you?_"

Wilkins took a step closer to them. Exactly what Jack had wanted. "It was a broken gear," Wilkins suggested. "A glitch in the clockworks."

"It was the leeries!" Georgie told him. "All of Jack's friends! They climbed the clock with their ladders!"

"Nonsense!" Wilkins argued. Had he been in the right presence of mind, he might have berated himself for arguing with a six-year-old, but by this point… "It's utter nonsense!"

"That was quite the jump," Jack said quietly, remembering that night. "As we were just a ladder short, so Angus an' the boys had to lever me up there." He looked up at Wilkins. "Always wanted to fly," he laughed. Then, his smile faded. "Unlike some others," he noted, never taking his eyes off Wilkins. "Others don't believe in the impossible. An' those blokes will _never_ fly," he shrugged. "Tell me, Mr. Wolf, why _didn't_ the balloon work for you?"

"People _cannot_ hold onto balloons and fly!" Wilkins exploded.

"They _can_!" Georgie exclaimed. "I did! And Annabel, and John. And Father-"

"Your _Father_-" Wilkins crossed the floor in two steps, and Jack made his move. He reached up, grabbing Wilkins by the belt, and pulling _hard_. Georgie scrambled backwards as Wilkins fell forward over Jack's legs.

"Georgie, _go!_" Jack ordered him. Wilkins' hands reached out for him, but Jack held him back as Georgie ran in a wide circle away from the two men and out the open door. Jack allowed himself a grin before he let go of Wilkins' belt, brought his arm up, and drove an elbow into Wilkins' lower back. The former banker yelped and curled in on himself. Jack bucked with both legs, kicking him off. He got to his feet, wobbling, and moved between Wilkins and the door, buying Georgie more time.

"You'll regret that, leerie," Wilkins told him.

Jack only smiled darkly. "Perhaps," he agreed. "Worth it, though. Told ya I'd like to meet you on an even playin' field, tho' I only got the one good arm." Wilkins yelled and came at him, driving him into the wall nearest the door. Jack slammed a knee into his gut. The banker gasped and staggered back.

"All that pedalin' round London," Jack shrugged with his one good arm. _No matter what, he can't leave this room if I can help it._

* * *

Georgie found a set of stairs and ran up them as fast as his legs could take him. He bounded up them and pushed open a door, stepping out into a hall. The hallway was brightly painted and Georgie saw many pictures and strange objects sitting all around the hall. Any other day, he would have wanted to stop and look at all of them, but today, he couldn't. _I need to find a telephone_, he reminded himself. _I have to call Father!_ He picked a direction, the end of the hall with the big window, and ran down it. In front of the window, he chose to go left and ran into a room that looked a bit like a living room. There were big couches and a big fireplace. Above the fireplace, there was a picture of the wolf. Georgie ran around the room, looking. _Father has our telephone on the wall…_he looked at the walls. Nothing that looked like their telephone back home.

Then he spotted something in a room off to his left. He ran inside, finding a big brown desk. And on top of that-_there it is!_ Georgie climbed into the big chair and sat on the top of the big desk. Father wouldn't let him sit on his desk at home, but he didn't think Father would mind about this one.

Annabel's instructions echoed in his head. _You pick up this part_-he picked up the handset-_and put this end by your ear. Then, you use the circles and call._

Father's voice, helping him recount the digits that made up their telephone number. _In case you ever get into trouble and have to call me. We'll memorize Aunt Jane's later._

"I'm in trouble today," Georgie whispered as his fingers worked the dial.

* * *

Downstairs, Jack was squaring off against Wilkins. Wilkins tried to make a break for the door, but Jack stepped in front of him. "I think it's _your_ time to be in the Chimpanzoo," Jack growled.

"There's _no_ such thing!" Wilkins screamed at him. The banker flew at him, screaming and cursing. Jack took a swing at him, driving him back. But the banker-_former_ banker, he reminded himself-was now bleeding from a split lip, and fighting mad.

And Jack _hurt_. His knees were throbbing from the banker's weight landing on them, and his right arm was still useless. But he knew he had to buy Georgie more time.

Jack didn't think he'd get another good hit in, but he was going to stay on his feet as long as he could.


	8. Chapter Seven

**CHAPTER SEVEN:**

The mood at the breakfast table was a grim one. John was resting on one arm while Annabel was pushing her oatmeal around with her spoon. The empty chair at the table was very prevalent. Jane Banks was exhausted. She's barely closed her eyes when Annabel and John practically galloped into the living room, demanding to know where their father was and if he'd found Georgie and Jack.

Ellen had intervened before Jane could get a word in, pushing the children into the kitchen with the suggestion of breakfast, giving Jane a precious few moments of sleep.

Sleep didn't come. She kept picturing a certain leerie, who kept reaching for her, but being pulled away by _something_ that she couldn't see. When he screamed her name in the dream, she woke up, heart pounding. _Jack..._

"It's not fair!" John exploded, slapping a hand on the table, startling both Annabel _and_ Jane. "We should be out helping Father look for Georgie!" he yelled.

"Jonathon George Banks!" Jane scolded, a little _too_ harshly, but she was sleep-deprived and terrified for Jack, the dream still lingering.

"He's right, Aunt Jane," Annabel said, a little quieter than her brother. "It doesn't feel right- us eating breakfast while Georgie's out there, and Jack."

Jane nodded tiredly. "I know," she agreed sympathetically. "I want to be out helping too. But your father has enough people to look for at the moment; he doesn't need three more out on the streets of London." She reached across the table and took their hands. "Perhaps in a little while, we can go to the police station and see if they have found anything."

Her niece and nephew didn't seem appeased by this idea, and before she could say anything, the telephone in the front hall rang. Jane sprang up from her chair and ran from the room, John and Annabel hot on her heels.

She picked up the handset. "Banks' residence," she said.

"…_.Aunt Jane?"_

She nearly dropped the phone. "_Georgie?!"_

"_Aunt Jane, it's the wolf! The wolf from the bowl! He took us away-"_ Georgie sounded positively frantic, and so far away.

Jane interrupted him. "Georgie, can you tell me _where_ you are?"

"_It's the Chimpanzoo! I-Let go!"_ Jane heard a loud thump from the other end of the phone, and then a resounding click as the phone was hung up.

Jane put the handset back so fast that it fell off again as she ran, barefoot, out of the house and into the park. "_Michael!_"

* * *

Jack's head snapped to the left as Wilkins got a good punch in. The banker swore and shook out his hand, stepping back from the leerie. Jack took advantage of it, shaking his head as he ran forward and tackled him around the waist, driving them both to the floor. Wilkins landed first, and then rolled…directly onto Jack's wounded shoulder.

Jack howled. If he hadn't been able to feel his shoulder before, he could _definitely_ feel it now! White-hot pain radiated through him and he saw stars.

Wilkins climbed off of him, making for the door. Jack made a feeble attempt to grab his ankle, missing by a mile. "No. Don't you _touch_ that-" Wilkins turned, giving him a ferocious kick to the ribs, cutting him off. Jack gasped for air.

The banker ran out the door, slamming it shut behind him, leaving Jack writhing on the ground.

The leerie turned over toward the door. "Bloody hell," Jack coughed out, clutching his shoulder, eyes shut from the pain, legs drawn to his chest. "Run, Georgie…" he whispered.

* * *

Wilkins thundered up the stairs, blood dripping from his mouth. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, racing through the house, searching for Georgie Banks. He ran into the living room. Then, he heard it. A small voice, coming from his office.

"It's the Chimpanzoo!" Georgie had found the telephone. Wilkins sprinted across the room, grabbed the telephone from the little boy with one hand and latched onto Georgie's wrist with the other, pulling him off the desk. The phone hit the ground. "Let go!" Georgie yelled at him, trying to pry the bigger man's fingers off his arm. Wilkins kept a firm grip on him as he slammed the phone handset back into place. Then, he turned on Georgie.

Georgie Banks could smell the wolf's breath. Hot and nasty. His claws dug into his arm, and his blue eyes were narrowed at him. "Who did you call?" the wolf growled at him.

"Aunt Jane!" Georgie told him, trying not to be scared, even though he was, _very_ much so. "She's going to tell Father, and he will come find me and Jack and take us away from the Chimpanzoo!"

The wolf pulled him close, until they were almost nose to nose.

"Your aunt and your father can search every zoo and garden and house in London, and they won't find you _or_ that stupid leerie," he hissed at the boy. He started pulling Georgie back toward the basement. Georgie tried digging his heels into the carpet, but Wilkins was a man on a mission. Georgie grabbed the door handle, trying to stop the wolf from pulling him along, but his finger slid off the door and he stumbled forward.

"My father will find you!" Georgie yelled at him. "He's going to find you and he's going to-to turn you into a coat!" It wasn't the best threat, but coming from a scared six-year-old boy, it was the best he could do, considering.

The wolf chuckled as they reached the stairs. "Quite frankly, I hope he does find you." He picked Georgie up and threw him over his shoulder, the boy beating on his back. "I'd like to see him try."

* * *

Michael followed the sidewalk toward the middle of the park. He had been correct in his thinking; the rain had washed away most everything from the night before. But something in him was telling him to keep looking. He didn't know what it was. But he knew enough now that, even if something _seemed_ impossible, it was always possible somehow. Impossible that some feeling was pushing him farther into the park. _And yet…._

Up ahead, he saw the gazebo. And then- "What the devil…" Michael saw something in the grass. A gray lump of…something. He picked up speed, his shoes sliding in the wet grass.

Jack's hat. The hat and its' owner had spent enough time in his home for him to recognize it. Then he spotted something else in the grass.

Grooves. Leading off into the bushes across the lawn. Like something had been dragged.

"Or some_one_…" Michael whispered. _Someone heavy. Like Jack._

From somewhere behind him, he heard someone screaming his name. He straightened up, Jack's hat in his hands, and turned to see his sister tearing across the grass behind him. "Jane?" he frowned. "Jane, what-" He caught her as she slipped in front of him, nearly bowling them both over.

"It's Georgie! He called the house!"

Michael let go of her. "He _what_?" he gasped. "Georgie, are you sure?!"

"Georgie. On the phone," Jane breathed. "H-He said, the _wolf_ took him and Jack to the Chimpanzoo!" She looked down at his hands. "Is…is that _Jack's_?" She grabbed it from him, turning it over in her hands.

Michael looked confused. "He…a wolf? I don't understand-"

"_We_ do," two voices chorused behind the adults. Michael and Jane turned to see John and Annabel, holding hands and standing in the wet grass with no shoes. Michael stepped around his sister, knelt down in front of his children, ignoring the wet patches on his slacks.

"You understand what Georgie was trying to say?" he asked for clarification. The two of them nodded solemnly. "Tell me," he urged them.

"The _wolf_," Annabel began, after a look from John. "The wolf, who tried to steal our home."

"Hang on," Michael held up a hand. He looked over his shoulder at Jane. "You mean…_Mr. Wilkins?_ At the bank?"

John nodded. "He's the wolf. He tried to take the house. With the badger and the weasel."

"Mr. Gooding…Mr. Frye?" Michael said. His children nodded urgently.

"Yes, them," Annabel took over. "If Georgie says the wolf took them, that's who he means," she said. "Well, not the other two, they're nice now, but the wolf-"

"This is crazy," Michael breathed, standing up and running a hand through his hair. "Why would Wilkins take Jack and Georgie?" He looked at his children. "This can't be right, it's impossible."

"Is it, Michael?" Jane asked from behind him. Her brother whirled to look at her, pants soaked from the grass, his face pale. "Impossible, that is? We're the reason he lost his job." She shrugged her shoulders, Jack's hat in one hand. "People have done stranger things for a lot less. And I've learned that generally, when your children tell us something fantastical such as this..." She nodded at them. "Well, it's all been true 'til now, hasn't it?" She raised an eyebrow. "Such as leeries climbing Big Ben and catching a certain nanny on a kite?"

_Hard to argue with that logic_..."But, Georgie said they're in the _Chimpanzoo_," Michael reminded her. "Even if it _is_ Wilkins, how do we _find_ them?"

"What would a zoo look like to a little boy?" Jane asked. "We know it's someplace with a phone," she added. Then her eyes brightened. "Does Wilkins own property anywhere? Somewhere he could keep a grown man and a little boy without anyone hearing them?"

Michael's mind was racing. "We could look through tax records at the bank." He grabbed Annabel and John in a fierce hug. "You're _brilliant_," he praised them. "How did I raise such smart children?" he asked, poking them each in the nose. His two oldest smiled brightly. He took their hands, Jane joining them. She grabbed Annabel's hand, Jack's hat in her other.

Michael set the pace. "Let's go find your brother and Jack."

* * *

**Author's Note**: The cavalry's coming, boys! Hopefully in time...


	9. Chapter Eight

**Disclaimer: Yup, this is Rob Marshall, and PL Travers and Walt Disney, and the characters are mine. NO, no they're not. I'm just playin' in the sandbox.**

* * *

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Jack lifted his head high enough off the floor to see Wilkins come in with Georgie. He practically dumped the boy on the floor just inside the door. Georgie tried to turn to grab onto the door, but Wilkins slammed it shut and kicked the bars. Georgie crawled backwards, out of range of his foot. "My father is coming for us!" he yelled out. Then, he turned, saw Jack lying on the ground. "Jack!"

"You were supposed to run," Jack said, breathing carefully as he spoke.

"I _tried_, Jack," Georgie told him, crawling over to him. "I _tried_ but he caught me!" The boy sounded miserable, disappointed and sad and scared all at once. He threw himself across the leerie in a desperate hug. Jack made a face but hid it from Georgie. He reached across his chest and grabbed his young friend's shoulder. The boy was in tears.

"Shh. It's okay," he reassured him, giving his shoulder a squeeze. "Know it isn't much but, I'm glad I don't have to be by myself in here," he told him. "I need someone brave, like you." He winced. "Did I…did you say your father is coming?" He smiled, even though it hurt. "You called your father?"

"Aunt Jane answered," Georgie explained. "I told her about the wolf. Just like you said."

"Aye, your aunt's a smart woman," Jack said. "And she'll put two and two together and she and your father will be here any moment." He poked Georgie in the nose, and the boy lifted his head. "Til then, we wait right here and don't go anywhere, so they can find us."

"Okay, Jack." Georgie rolled onto his back, resting his head on Jack's chest, and the two of them stared up at the ceiling. "Jack…is there more to the Chimpanzoo story?"

"Course there is," Jack glanced down, saw Georgie's head rising and falling with his breathing-labored as it was.

"Would you….can you finish it?"

"Sure," Jack closed his eyes, trying to ignore how much his body hurt. _My dear Jane…if you could hurry, just a bit…_When he spoke aloud, his voice was soft.

"_You might never play the musicals_

_In all your wildest dreams._

_But billow and blast in the Chimpanzoo,_

_And all the animals burst their seams!_

_It takes a lot of talent and time_

_To become a West End attraction._

_But in this place, one rude grimace_

_Gets a marvelous re…"_

"Jack?" Georgie tilted his head, then sat up, looking at his friend.

Jack's eyes were closed, and he'd stopped in the middle of the story. "Jack?" Georgie shook him carefully, remembering what he'd said about being hurt.

His friend didn't move.

* * *

Michael led his family around the back of the bank to an employee entrance, produced a key from his pocket. The cab ride there seemed as though it had taken all day. The bank loomed above them, casting a shadow over the side street, quiet on a Saturday. He let them in, and they took the stairs to the second floor. Michael led them down the hall to a locked door. Another key on his ring opened that door, and inside, they were greeted with several file cabinets. "Start in the Ws," he told Jane. His sister peeled off, choosing a cabinet and started thumbing through the files. Michael took another one, and John and Annabel sat down cross-legged on the floor, watching the two adults work.

"There has to be a way we can help," Annabel whispered to her brother.

"What if we looked in Father's office?" John whispered back. "It used to be the wolf-I mean, Mr. Wilkins'."

The two of them looked up. The adults were so engrossed in their task, they didn't notice the two of them get up quietly and leave the room, heading back down the hall.

They turned a corner, and ran smack into a long pair of legs. Annabel looked up into a pair of blue eyes, almost hidden by a large beard and a clump of snow white hair.

"Bank's closed," Mr. Dawes, Jr, the bank president, told them. "What brings you here on a Saturday?"

John and Annabel looked up at the white haired owner of Fiduciary Bank. His eyes were inquisitive above his full white beard.

"You're Mr. Banks' children?" he questioned them, even though he already knew the answer, and they both nodded silently. "Your father doesn't often work a Saturday," Dawes noted.

"H-he had to come in today to...look for something," Annabel stammered. Her brother nodded in agreement.

"Did he, now. What might that be?" the older man asked them.

Neither child said a word, exchanging a glance instead. Mr. Dawes, Jr. was a good man, they both knew that, but he was also an adult that probably wouldn't believe them anyway.

Then, from down the hall, a file cabinet door slammed shut, and their father's voice cried out, "Nothing!" in frustration.

Mr. Dawes looked down at the children and winked as Michael and Jane came out of the file room, Jane trying to calm down her brother.

"... Perhaps they're archived, or-" She trailed off as the two of them saw the bank's owner, John, and Annabel standing in the hall. The children looked terrified. Mr. Dawes looked amused.

"Hello, Michael," he said with a note of curiosity in his voice. "You know I can't pay you overtime for working on a Saturday..."

"Mr. D-Dawes, sir," Michael stumbled over the name, his mind racing for an excuse as to why he and his sister were both in the file room on a Saturday morning. "I-that is, we're-"

"Looking for something. Your children said as much," Dawes interrupted. He put a hand on the children's shoulders. "Anything I can help with? Despite my age, I do remember where most things are," he added with a smile.

"Just, ah, some property records," Michael told him. "For a client."

"I see." Dawes never lost his humored tone. "What sort of property?"

_Anyplace a child might mistake for a zoo_, Michael thought. But then, thinking quickly, he said, "If someone wasn't a client of the bank any longer, where would their records go?"

"It would depend," Dawes said. "If they've gone to a different institution, their records would be transferred to them," he explained.

"What if they were a former employee?" Jane cut in. Michael shot her a look and elbowed her in the side.

"That's a different matter," Dawes said slowly, stroking his beard. "Those records are in the employee files in the basement." He didn't miss the sidelong glance Michael gave his sister. "I could save you some time if you'd tell me who you're looking for."

Neither of the older Banks siblings said anything. It was John who finally spoke up.

"Mr. W-Wilkins," he whispered.

"John!" Michael said sharply.

His son stared at the floor.

"Mr. Wilkins, eh? And why is that?" Dawes was speaking more to the children now, his voice softer.

"I'd rather not say, sir," Michael admitted hurriedly, with a Look at his children. "But I promise you that it's important."

The two men stared at each other for a moment, Dawes sizing George Banks's son up.

"Please," Jane whispered.

Dawes's eyes flickered to her. She looked upset, he noted. It was also then that he realized something else:

Michael Banks had _three_ children.

Only two of them were standing in the room.

And Michael Banks looked like he'd been up most of the night.

Finally, he said, "Mr. Wilkins owns a home in Chelsea," he said.

"Thank you, sir," Michael said, sounding relieved, somehow. The family turned to go, and Mr. Dawes added, "But I also know that he sometimes spoke of going to the country. Something about family in Croydon. Odd, though…there was no mention of anything belonging to him in Croydon when his assets were counted. Perhaps I misheard…" Mr. Dawes trailed off, looking at Michael meaningfully.

Michael's eyes widened, and there was a touch of a smile on his face. "Thank you, Mr. Dawes," he told him.

Dawes inclined his head. "I'll see you Monday," he said pointedly.

"Of course, sir," Michael nodded. Then, he was practically pushing his family down the stairs.

"Where are we going?" Annabel asked her father as they took the stairs two at a time.

Michael's voice was determined. "Croydon."

"But, Mr. Dawes said-" Annabel sounded confused.

Jane had caught on. "It's what he _didn't_ say, darling," she told her niece, out of breath, as they hit the lobby and made their way back out the employee entrance.

Annabel glanced at her brother, who shrugged. He didn't get it, either. The family burst out the door, nearly running smack into a black police car. Officer Daugherty was leaning on the hood. "You look like you're in a hurry," he noted dryly as Michael skidded to a stop in front of him. "Need a lift somewhere?"

* * *

"In Timbuktu, there's a chimpanzoo…" Georgie recited the song in a soft whisper, laying next to Jack's right side. Jack was still sleeping. Georgie stared up at the ceiling, wondering when his father and his aunt would arrive to take them home. He was so busy repeating the song over and over that he didn't notice the wolf had come back, and was now standing in the doorway again.

"You. Come here," Wilkins hooked a finger at Georgie, startling the boy. "I'm not going to hurt you," he told him.

Georgie stayed put, scooting closer to Jack, but being careful not to hurt him. His friend was sleeping again. "Jack wouldn't want me to," he told the wolf. "And besides, wolves are never good in the stories."

Wilkins glanced at the unconscious leerie as if Jack might wake up at any second. He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "What _is_ it with the two of you?" he asked, mostly to himself, not really expecting an answer.

"We believe that impossible things are real," Georgie replied quietly, his eyes looking down at Jack. "Like that you can fly on a balloon and go swimming in a bathtub."

"But they _aren't_," Wilkins replied. "They're _not_ real."

"They are to us," Georgie said. He turned to look at the wolf. The wolf wasn't really scary now, he noticed. He looked like…well, he looked sort of _normal_. "Everything was possible when Mary Poppins came."

"The woman at the bank with you?"

Georgie nodded, his fingers messing with the buttons on Jack's coat. "She was the one who helped us, her and Jack. She helped us get our house back."

"And how did she do that?" Wilkins was genuinely curious. The rational, adult part of his mind was telling him to stop listening. That it wasn't true. And yet…

"She's magic," Georgie told him, looking up at him. "I caught her on my kite in the park. And we went swimming in a bathtub and to the music hall in the bowl in the nursery." He blinked. "And she helped us make it so the clock didn't strike midnight," he added. "With Jack." He returned to looking at Jack, who was starting to come round again. "You don't believe in magic," he told Wilkins, without looking at him. "But it's real. I believe in it, and so does Jack, and my father, and John and Annabel, and Aunt Jane."

Jack, semi-conscious now, gave Georgie an encouraging smile. "You bet we do," he whispered to him.

Georgie smiled back. "Impossible things _are_ possible," he told Wilkins. "But not if you don't believe in them, like you don't. That's why your balloon didn't work. You didn't believe you could fly."

As an afterthought he added. "And you're kind of mean and scary. Maybe if you weren't a mean and scary person, then the magic would work for you."

Wilkins was silent for a moment, processing. Then, he shook his head. "No. Absolutely not. It's all rubbish!" He banged on the door to punctuate his sentence before he disappeared upstairs again.

Jack nodded slightly toward the door. "That right there is what you were talkin' about," he told Georgie, and Georgie nodded.

"I want my Father," he told Jack.

Jack gave Georgie's shoulder a squeeze with his good arm. "Any moment now," he told him. "Remember, the magic doesn't work if you don't believe in it."

"I believe a _lot_," Georgie said staunchly, and Jack chuckled.

"I know you do, Georgie." He tweaked the boy's nose. "I think you do more than anybody."

* * *

**Author's Note: (aka "A Conversation")  
**Chibi: (Sees Ed the Plot Bunny munching on a carrot in the corner) Hey, Ed, I feel like you're kinda stalling on this story. Like you don't know how the ending's gonna be.

Ed the Plot Bunny: Yeah, maybe a little.

Chibi: Well, maybe you wanna quit that and bring this story to an end? Cuz there's lots of other stories in our queue that we should get to.

Ed the Plot Bunny: (looks up). Nah. (goes back to eating carrot) Besides, the movie comes out next Tuesday and we can get more ideas then.

Chibi: (Rolls eyes to the ceiling) You're not helpful. And who's paying for that Blu-Ray, huh?

Ed the Plot Bunny: (Shoves carrot into mouth) Can't talk right now. I'm eating.

Chibi: (sigh)


	10. Chapter Nine

**CHAPTER NINE:**

Officer Daugherty drove in silence, taking in all that Michael Banks had just told him. "So this banker, the one that tried to take your house, he took your son and some lamplighter." His tone suggested that he still didn't believe them. "Why? What's his reason?"

Michael glanced over his shoulder into the backseat, where Jane sat, flanked by John and Annabel. "Well, Officer, we _did_ sort of cost him his job."

"Seems a bit unlikely for motive for kidnapping," Daugherty said.

"Officer-" Jane spoke up, but Daugherty cut her off.

"But, since it's the only lead you've got at the moment," he continued, "it couldn't hurt to check it out." Croydon passed into their windows. "How do you suggest we find this Mr. Wilkins?"

"Ask around town," Jane said. "Perhaps someone's seen his car. Michael, what did he drive again?"

"A Rolls Royce," Michael said. He chuckled dryly. "I used to think perhaps if I ever got promoted, the bank would give me one."

"Well, now looks as good as any of a place to stop," Daugherty said. He parked on the street and the adults got out of the car. "Let's go ask around town," he said, with a glance over the top of the car at Jane. She nodded at him.

Michael poked his head into the backseat. "You two need to stay put," he told them.

"But, Father-" Annabel started, and Michael shook his head.

"Not this time," he told them. "Stay put." His tone was firm, and Annabel and John sunk back into the seat, their arms crossed in a huff. He smiled despite himself. "You two have done brilliantly," he said. "Without you, we'd never have gotten this far." He tapped the windowsill. "I can't look for your brother if I'm worried about you two," he said. "So please, stay here until we come back."

John and Annabel looked at each other. Then, they looked at their father. "Okay," John said.

"Be careful, Father," Annabel said.

"Of course," he promised them, and then he was gone.

The two Banks children exchanged looks. As soon as their Father, Aunt Jane and the policeman went into the building across the street, they were out of the car.

* * *

Something made Georgie get up from the floor and head toward the window. "Georgie?" Jack asked, lying on his back in the middle of the floor. He craned his neck, trying to find the boy. "Where've you gone to?"

Georgie stood on his tiptoes. His hand fell short of the window by a few feet. "Over here," he said, looking up at the window. "I was just looking."

Jack bit his tongue as he worked his way into a sitting position to keep from crying out. "Did you hear something?" he asked. "Or see something?" Gingerly, he got to his feet. His arm hung limply at his side as he slowly walked over to where Georgie was standing.

"No," Georgie said. "I was just…looking."

Jack reached up with his good hand, feeling around the window.

_A breeze.__I wonder…_He pushed on the window with his good hand. The window moved, just a little. Jack allowed himself a smile. "Georgie, c'mere," he said, bending down so Georgie could climb into his arms. "Do you think you can push that window open?" He lifted the boy as well as he could with one arm. Georgie put both hands on the window and pushed hard.

It wiggled, just a little. "It moved!" Georgie gasped. Jack shushed him.

"Keep it down," Jack said. "Come on, let's get you out of here." Grimacing, he hefted Georgie up again with his good arm.

* * *

"I don't _believe_ this!" Michael exploded, looking at the empty back seat. He turned, exasperated, to his sister, who was trying desperately to hide a smile.

"What do you expect, Michael?" she asked. "They're _your_ children."

"I have now gone from _one_ missing child to _three!_" Her brother ran a hand through his hair and down his face.

"You could almost say four," Jane pointed out. "As Jack more often than not acts like one of the children instead of an adult," she grinned.

"_How_ are you so calm about this?!" Michael demanded.

Jane glanced around. "It's hard to explain," she said. "But I feel as though we're in the right place."

The statement brought Michael up short.

* * *

"Who do we ask?" John asked his sister as they jogged through Croydon.

"Anyone," Annabel said, and tugged on the arm of the first adult she happened to corner after that statement. It was an older woman, dressed in a deep maroon dress with a bonnet. "Excuse us, ma'am," she said, putting on her best manners, "we're looking for someone."

The woman smiled down at the two children. John put on his best smile. "Who might that be?" she asked them in a friendly tone.

"His name is William Wilkins, ma'am," John said. "He's…." He frowned, and looked at Annabel for help.

"Our uncle," Annabel said quickly. "But we forgot where he lives." She bit her lip. Would the woman believe the story, and not wonder why two children looking for their uncle wouldn't already be with their uncle or with an adult?

"Wilkins…" the woman mused. "I'm afraid I don't know anyone by _that _name-"

John and Annabel's smiles fell.

"-but there's a Wilkin_son_ that has a home out in the country east of town," the woman finished. "It's a large old manor home, first one you come to on the road. "

Annabel exchanged a look with her brother. "That must be it," she said. "Thank you!" She grabbed her brother's hand and the two of them ran off.

The woman stared after them. "Such polite children," she said to herself. "_Odd_, but polite."

* * *

The window was slowly popping out of its' frame, warped and rotted from the English weather. "Go on then, Georgie," Jack breathed, his good arm on fire. "Just a few more ought to do it!"

Georgie put both hands on the window and shoved with all his might. Jack heard wood crack, the frame splinter, and then with a _pop_! the window snapped out of the rotted frame, onto the grass outside. Warm air rushed into the little room.

Jack set Georgie down for a moment, breathing hard. "All right then, friend," he said. "You're going out that window to the road, and you're going to follow that road to a house or to a town, and you're going to get help for us, all right?"

Georgie nodded. "Will you…will you be all right?" he asked. "Without me?"

Jack's heart broke. _This young man really is a treasure_, he thought, fighting to act the adult and not break down. "I'm not afraid of some big, bad wolf," he assured him. "If anythin', the wolf should be afraid of _me_." He grinned, and Georgie smiled. Jack lifted him up again, as high as he could go. "Now go on, get out of here," he whispered, helping Georgie scramble through the window. Georgie's fingers gripped the earth outside, pulling himself out as Jack pushed him from behind.

A minute or two later, Georgie was running.

Jack collapsed back to the floor, back against the wall, sweat dripping from his brow. He wanted so desperately to sleep, but more than that, he wanted to see the look on Wilkins' face when he came to check up on them again, and found he was down one prisoner in his Chimpanzoo.

_Stay awake, Jack_, he told himself. _Just a little while longer…_

* * *

Daugherty came out of the local tavern to see the Banks siblings leaning against his car, impatient. "You're missing a few," he noted as he came across the street.

"We're aware," Michael bit, and Jane shushed him.

"Did you find anything out?" she asked.

Daugherty nodded, smiling. "Course," he said. "There's an old manor east of here that's been owned by a Wilkinson family for decades."

"But we're looking for-" Michael began, but Daugherty held up a hand.

"Let me finish. The manor, it's called _Weatherall_."

"That's Mr. Wilkins' middle name!" Jane exclaimed. "And that would explain why it wasn't listed on his assets in his file- he must have dropped the _son_ from his name- William Weatherall Wilkinson is such a _mouthful_!"

"He would keep it short and simple," Michael noted. "Anyway, it's as good a lead as any. Now if we could just find the children-"

"Did you say _Wilkins_?" a scratchy voice asked them. The three turned to see an elderly woman walking down the sidewalk. "Two very nice children just asked me about a Mr. Wilkins moments ago," she said.

"Where did they go?" Michael asked, barely concealing his excitement. _Hang on Georgie, we're coming for you._

She pointed. "Headed out of town, running," she said. "They were going to see their uncle."

"Uncle?" Michael frowned, then saw his sister mouth _Wilkins_ to him. _Ah.__My brilliant children_, he sighed. "Right. Thank you, ma'am," he told her as the three climbed into the car.

The woman frowned as they drove off. "_So_ odd."

* * *

Georgie's stomach growled as he ran down the road. The road had been easy to find, but finding help was coming harder. The road was long, and they were in the middle of nowhere, it seemed. But he kept running. _Jack is waiting to be rescued_, he reminded himself, even though he wanted to stop. _And I have to save him and get far away from the Wolf._ His feet pounded the pavement in his heavy rain boots as he ran.

John and Annabel Banks were running on the same road, Croydon fading into the background as they did. Neither of them had rain boots, which made the going a bit easier. Annabel was just a bit taller, so she was a little ahead of John, and it was she who saw the tiny figure running on the road ahead of them first. They were coming closer. "John!" she cried, pointing as she slowed to a stop. "Look! Is that-"

"Georgie!" John shouted, picking up the pace again, his sister hurrying to keep up. He ran ahead and plowed into his little brother, nearly knocking them both over. Annabel joined them a moment later, laughing and crying all at once.

"You're here!" Georgie cried, tears in his eyes and happiness in his voice. "I called Aunt Jane to come find us, and you _all_ came and you're _here!_" He hugged his siblings fiercely.

"Georgie, we're so glad you're all right. Are you hurt?" Annabel asked.

He shook his head. "Not me. But Jack, Jack is…" he trailed off, then, in a panic, "We have to go get him! He's all alone with the wolf and the wolf might-"

None of them had noticed the black car that pulled up beside them. Michael Banks was out of the vehicle before it had even stopped, his arms wrapped around his youngest in a tight bear hug. He was crying and didn't care if his children saw or if his sister teased him.

"Father!" Georgie sniffed. He buried his head in his father's jumper. "You're here! You're really here!"

Michael poked his son's nose. "Of course," he said, his voice catching. "Of course I'm here." He noticed then that Georgie was wearing Jack's hat, and he tried to tug it off Georgie's head, but the boy clamped it back down with both hands.

"Georgie, where is Jack?" Jane asked.

Officer Daugherty was scanning the road ahead. "Letterbox on the right," he noted. "Probably a house up this way." He looked at Georgie. "Have you been running a long time?"

Georgie shook his head. "I just escaped the Chimpanzoo, just a little bit ago," he said. "We have to go back to get Jack!"

* * *

The wolf came back again, this time with his gun.

The first thing he noticed was Jack, under the window, left arm cradled in his right, legs stuck out in front of him, like he'd slid down the wall. His hat was missing.

The second thing….the window above him was _open_.

And finally… "Where's the boy?" Wilkins demanded.

Jack glanced up, managed a short laugh. "Escaped the Chimpanzoo, Mr. Wolf," he said hoarsely. "Off to go find his family."

Wilkins swore, and leveled the gun at Jack, the barrel right between his eyes.

Jack's breath caught. "I'd ah, rather you didn't," he whispered. "Only I think I've finally managed to figure out in my head how to ride a bicycle with one hand." He tried to hoist himself to a standing position, using the wall as leverage, but Wilkins took care of it for him, crossing the room in a few strides and hauling him up by his coat lapels. It didn't matter anymore, Jack let out a grunt and a hiss of pain as his back hit the wall. "Thanks," Jack managed, a hint of his old humor in his voice. "Rather be facin' you on my feet anyways." He refused to cower before this man. He kept his eyes locked on Wilkins. If he was going to die today, it was going to be on his feet and looking at him. "Glad Georgie got away," he said. "Since he wasn't the reason at all that midnight skipped you that night." He shook his head, chuckling. "For it was me an' my boys," he said. "We stopped Big Ben from chiming that night."

Something in Wilkins' face changed then. Perhaps it was the course of the evening. Perhaps it was that finally all the talk of magic had finally seeped into his brain. But the talk of leeries climbing Big Ben with their ladders, and the man before him stopping the clock…he _finally_ believed it. And perhaps the balloon really _had _been magic, and known that he had evil thoughts. And whatever the case, his life was in shambles, and one of the causes of it was right _here_ in front of him.

Wilkins shoved the barrel of the gun at Jack's forehead. "I'd rather you were Michael Banks," he growled. "But I'll settle for you."

"Go on then," a voice snapped. "I'm right here."

Wilkins let go of Jack with one hand and turned to see Michael Banks framed in the doorway, anger etching his features. Behind him was a police officer, his sister, and all three Banks children, the youngest wearing the leerie's hat.

Jack grabbed Wilkins' hand with the gun in it with everything he had in him, shoved it away. The gun went off, the shot pinging off the cement wall. Daugherty attempted to draw his own sidearm and aim at Wilkins, but it was Jane and Michael Banks who beat him to it. Jane caught Jack as he slid down the wall, finally overcome, and Michael Banks sent Wilkins dropping to the ground with a well-aimed right cross. He shouted as he shook his hand out. The banker tried to go for his gun, but Daugherty leveled his own at him.

Wilkins froze.

"Seems as though there's always Banks's in need of saving," Daugherty noted. Michael Banks looked at him, one eyebrow raised. "My father was always tracking down two Banks children in the park when he was on his rounds years ago," he explained. "Cherry Tree Lane and the park there used to be his beat."

Michael's memory flashed some twenty years earlier..._ a kite, bumping along the ground in the park, running into the feet of a very kind-looking constable..._ "Your father?" Michael asked Daugherty, who nodded with a grin.

"Indeed, sir," Daugherty said. "He spoke fondly of the children with the kite. Was just a few moments ago when I put two and two together- he talked about strange things happening around 17 Cherry Tree Lane often." He tipped his hat to Jane, who was smiling up at them both, mouthing _thank you_ to the officer. "I'm sorry it took me so long to realize," Daugherty added politely, returning his gaze to Wilkins. "Should've never questioned impossible happenings from _you_ all!"

"Officer," Michael grinned, "_impossible_ is not in our vocabulary!"

The three Banks children ran through the door at that moment, entangling Jane, Michael and Jack in a bone-crushing hug- one Jack blessedly didn't feel, as he had passed out again.


	11. Epilogue

**Disclaimer:**** For the final time...not mine. I've really enjoyed playing in this sandbox though. I will definitely be back again, I think.**

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

Georgie Banks bounced impatiently in front of the living room window, watching the street anxiously. The sun was just beginning to go down and Cherry Tree Lane was getting progressively darker. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see his aunt.

Georgie grinned. His aunt Jane was just as excited for what was coming down the street- a little slower than before, but coming anyway. Then, they heard the rattling sound of wooden wheels on the cobblestones. Georgie squealed and burst out the front door, bounding down the steps.

Jack's bicycle came tottering down the lane, his ladder still balanced across the back. Jack steered the bike to a stop with his good right hand, which also held his lamplighter's torch. The bullet from Wilkins' gun had mangled his shoulder enough (combined with the fight and not getting it treated for almost 24 hours) that his left arm was mostly useless still, even now, almost a month later. He couldn't raise it much past his ribs. He had become quite adept at riding his bicycle over the cobblestone streets with one hand- or no hands.

"Jack!" Georgie yelled. Tonight was his first night back down his route. Angus had been covering for him while he recovered.

Jack grinned widely. "Look before you cross!" he yelled at Georgie, and the boy gave the sides of the street a fleeting glance as he dashed across, throwing himself into Jack's good arm for a one-armed hug. "Hello, friend," he greeted him. "It's good to see you!" he added.

"We've missed you!" Georgie said, immediately going for Jack's hat, pulling it off the leerie's head and depositing it on his own. "Are you better?"

Jack lifted his arm as far as he could get it, ignoring the twinge of pain. "Very much so," he told Georgie. "And you?"

Georgie nodded enthusiastically. "Father says the wolf is in the Chimpanzoo, but he won't be getting out ever again." He leaned in close, whispering in Jack's ear, "Sometimes I dream about it, but Father reminds me that I'm safe at home."

"Smart man, your father," Jack smiled. "I think about it sometimes too," he admitted. "But we're out of the zoo now, so all's well."

Georgie's eyes lit up. "Jack, the Chimpanzoo! You can finish the story tonight!"

Jack frowned. "Oh, Georgie, I don't know, I've got a lot-"

"We're all curious to know how it ends," Jane Banks said, crossing the street. In the fading light, she looked lovely in a pair of black slacks and a red blouse. "It's good to see you back on your bike," she told Jack seriously.

"Feels a bit weird," Jack admitted. "Watch this, though," he added with a grin, climbing back on his bike. He put his good hand on his handlebar, his torch pinched between the handlebar and his hand. He pushed off with his bike and rode up the block, then turned back toward the Banks'. Then, he let go with both hands, pedaling with no hands, twirling his torch in his right hand. He sped past a cheering Georgie and a laughing Jane before turning another circle and coming back, hopping off his bike with a proud smile.

"Well done!" Jane told him, applauding. "It doesn't even really seem like you've slowed down at all."

Jack's smile faded, just a little. "Oh, it takes me a bit longer," he assured her. "But I'm just glad to be moving anywhere at all. Been in bed for far too long. I've missed my route, missed my fellows, and especially...missed you all," he finished awkwardly.

"And you're sure you can't stay?" Jane asked him, injecting a bit of pleading into her voice.

Georgie looked back and forth between the two adults. Jack stepped closer to Jane, and Georgie scrambled to get out of the way, grabbing onto Jack's leg and looking up at him.

"I don't want to impose," Jack tried. _This is useless, you git, you know you'd skive off anything if anybody in this family asked you for something...especially these two_, he thought, trying to keep a straight face.

"I insist," Jane said with a smile. "We've all missed you."

Jack looked down at her. "Even Michael?" he teased her.

She rolled her eyes. "Just a few minutes," she tried again. "At least finish the story you started. Everyone-_including_ Michael-has missed your stories."

"You have to come get your hat!" Georgie insisted, and took off running toward the house even as Jack tried to swipe it off his head.

"Oi!" Jack yelled after him, but Georgie, giggling, was already in the house. He shook his head. "That boy is somethin' else, isn't he," he sighed, looking down at Jane. "Runs in the family, I guess."

Jane said nothing, just glanced at him from under her eyelashes with a quiet smile.

Jack sighed, then lit his torch. Deftly, he placed the ladder against the pole and offered his torch to Jane and lit it. "Have a go?" he asked her.

Jane didn't hesitate, climbing up the ladder, torch in hand. "Turn the gas on gently," Jack explained, following her up the ladder. It creaked under their weight. Jane reached a hand up, carefully opening the valve. Jack used his good hand and guided hers with the torch to the inside of the lamp. There was a _pop_ as the flame caught, licking at the fuel inside. Jane started, then laughed. Jack climbed back off the ladder, offering her a hand down.

Her foot slipped on the last rung, and she and Jack both fell awkwardly to the pavement, Jack hitting first with a groan.

"Oh _Jack_," Jane gasped, looking down at him from where she'd fallen across his chest. "I'm so sorry! Your arm-"

"'S all right," Jack assured her. "I've got the one good arm to hold you with," he said quietly, and to prove the point, he sat up, tangled his right hand in her hair, and pulled her down to him for a kiss under the lantern light.

"_Yes_!" someone shouted from across the street, and the two broke apart quickly to see John, Annabel and Georgie in the doorway, heads stacked on top of each other between the doorframe and the open door…their father on top of the stack with a knowing grin at his sister.

"Michael Banks! Close that door!" Jane scolded him from across the street. Her brother burst out laughing even as he shooed the children back inside. "Is this what it's like, then?" Jane asked Jack, shaking her head in embarrassment. "Being in your Chimpanzoo?"

Jack laughed softly as he recited,

"_Laughs, laughs, nothing but laughs,_

_But you know who's laughing at who?_

_It's the animals there who giggle and stare_

_Gape with glee incredulously,_

_At the boisterous, bumptious, rowdy crew_

_At you in the Chimpanzoo!"_

* * *

**Author's Note**: **That's all, folks! Jack's flirty line to Jane about the one good arm is one of my favorite lines from "Tombstone", said by one of my favorite actors, Sam Elliott. I borrowed it, seemed appropriate in this case. Thanks to everybody who's been reading and reviewing, and to laranjones1986 for letting me bounce ideas around with her. I see Ed is booking plane tickets for LAX from London, so I'm thinking we're heading back to Power Rangers territory for the next story. THANK YOU :)**


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